


A Final Waltz

by WinterTheWriter



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Coping, F/M, Fluff, Grief, Romance, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterTheWriter/pseuds/WinterTheWriter
Summary: After all these years and all this time, Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter finally get their dance.





	A Final Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Long time no read. I was bitten by this plot-bunny so I decided I'd drop a little one-shot for it, just so y'all don't think I've abandoned you. Have some angst, and enjoy~!

She always comes when he needs her to. 

Like a glorious vision, all light and warmth and strength, Peggy seems to wade through the air like water as she walks to him, her arms open invitingly. Steve beams at her and Peggy matches it, eyes crinkling with age but also with love, so much love it wraps itself around Steve's heart and squeezes tight. With a slight bow, Steve holds out a hand and winks. Peggy curtsies and takes it, her charmed laughter tinkling around them. She moves slower now, but that's alright -- a waltz isn't supposed to be fast. 

It all seems too good to be true, that after all this time, they can finally have their date. After all they've been through, there's still this. There will always be this. 

She steps her bare feet atop Steve's, lets him hold her weight and do the work. Back then -- back in Steve's world -- she would've danced circles around him, but this is no less perfect. One of her hands glides up his arm to rest on his shoulder, and her free hand grasps his. And, without a single note of music but two great sighs of relief almost harmonically, Peggy and Steve start their dance. 

He holds her around her waist, tight and reassuring as they laugh and step in fours. Their foreheads meet in the middle. Smiling, eyes sparkling, warmth and love and such a sense of /finally/, the pair could've danced into infinity without ever noticing. 

It's perfect. Everything is perfect. 

"I love you, you know," Steve murmurs, breaking the silence. Peggy laughs lightly, shaking her head. Her curls brush Steve's cheeks when she does this and it's wonderful.

"Oh Steve -- /my Steve/ -- how I wish we could've loved together. But you know you will always be in my heart." The hand on Steve's shoulder cups his cheek, a paper-thin thumb brushing over the bone. He catches it in his hand and kisses her palm, delighting in the saccharine melt in her eyes at the gesture. 

"We're dancin', aren't we?" He teases, raising a brow before slowly twirling her. She sighs and goes in for a gentle dip, letting him bend her for just a moment before wrapping both arms around his neck. 

There's something bittersweet in that smile now, in those eyes.

"Darling, I am sorry to say we've never danced together a day in our lives." 

Swallowing thickly, Steve glances down, his own smile going strained. "Peggy, can't we just exist like this? In this moment?" He knows. Of course he knows, he's not that far gone, but the last thing he wants right now is to remember. 

"How can we exist if only one of us still does?" 

Even in death, Peggy is wiser and smarter than Steve could ever hope to be.

God, how he loves her. 

He tells her so, again, and she pecks a wispy kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Steve -- you mustn't make a habit of this. We are both of us out of time, in different ways, and you cannot spend the rest of yours pining over me. There is so much for you to do and so many people for you to meet." 

"They're not you," Steve weakly protests, holding her tighter before resting his forehead on her shoulder. She hums in agreement, one hand stroking the nape of his neck.

"Quite right, darling. But you do not need to replace me, you only need to live your life and love independently of me. You /better/ not replace me, in fact, or I will haunt you."

"S'that a threat or a promise?" 

"Threat. I will make Annabelle seem like an American Girl doll. Do not test me, Rogers." 

They share a laugh and hers is distinctly quieter. Steve sighs and shakes his head, lifting it up to smile sadly at her. "You're right. You're always right. But I couldn't let go without dancing with my best gal for the first time." 

"And now you have," Peggy placates, tightening her arms around him, "and now we both must go. In different directions." 

He nods slowly, smile fading as his eyes cast downwards. She steps off his feet, unravels her arms, but Steve grabs her hands in his before she can drift too far away. "Peggy -- I /love/ you." He'll say it as many times as he can. 

"And I love you, Steve Rogers." She pulls one hand free, but he holds the other one tight. Peggy beams at him, tugging at him. "Now, darling, you must let--" Tug. "--Me--" Tug. 

~

"Go." 

Steve's head jerks up and he blinks through his tears, the sudden harsh lighting and clinical scent jarring him. A kind, albeit concerned, nurse is staring at him expectantly, standing next to his seat. "...I'm sorry?" He asks weakly. The nurse smiles a little sadly and a little awkwardly.

"Please, Captain Rogers. Let go of her hand. She's not here anymore and -- arrangements were made -- I'm sorry--," she stumbles over her words, obviously filtering. How many times has she asked him now? 

It takes a moment for the words to process, mouth open a little in anticipation of answering her, and he looks back over at Peggy. His Peggy, so beautiful and radiant, gone dull and gray in her final sleep. His Peggy, who can give warmth no more, love him no more. His Peggy, whose icy hand he still clutches in both of his. 

God, she was right.

Clearing his throat, he gently lets go, moving her wrist so it rests besides her body properly. "Yeah, yes, sorry. I--sorry." 

The nurse's answering smile is a bit warmer now, and she pats him on the shoulder. "It's alright, sir. Do you want a number for a grief counselor? I -- well, all of us -- know how much she meant to you." 

Steve will never get used to his personal life having a Wikipedia page. He shakes his head and slowly stands up, looking around the hospice room before tucking his hands into his pockets. "Ah, no. Thank you. Just...take care of her, alright? I know she's gone, but--" 

"I know. We will, I promise." She moves slightly to the side, subtly putting the open door in his direct line of sight. Steve takes the hint. With a shaky smile, he presses one last kiss to Peggy's forehead and walks out.

~

Later that night amidst a fitful sleep, like a glorious vision, all light and warmth and strength, Peggy seems to wade through air like water as she walks to him, her arms open invitingly.

She always comes when he needs her to.

And she always will.


End file.
